CHAPTER 8
Days were getting warmer, and the nights suddenly hotter for Morgan, compliments of the handsome man sleeping in the room next to hers. Tossing and turning, she woke often from sleep in a deed
worthy sweat, embarrassed by the improper thoughts dancing through her sleeping imagination. Her legs were restless, her skin itched, and her core ached. Frustrated with her betraying hormones, she fisted her hands full of blankets, pulled them high, while she scolded herself for having such lucid and unbecoming thoughts.
“Get it together, Jameson,” she whispered to herself, something she found herself saying often.
“This isn’t like you; you’re not that kind of girl. You don’t even know the guy!” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the devil on her other shoulder began to negotiate the issue at hand.
She knew he was kind, and although physically unable, he wanted to contribute and earn his keep.
That had to mean he had character, integrity, and was honorable. He was well spoken and took care of himself down to perfectly manicured finger nails. That said, he was confident and esteemed. A real catch, and so what if his stay was temporary, what’s wrong with a little fling? Can’t be a good girl forever – time to be bad?
Maybe that was it. She was always the good girl and he provoked ideas that were anything but. He was temporary. He would leave soon. Without emotions or attachments, just easy fun with no strings attached, she couldn’t get hurt.
He could be a warm up, so to speak. Ease her way back into the game – break the ice on her five-year love hiatus. This was her past talking and she hated that it had a voice.
Letting out a frustrated groan, completely at war with herself, she was thoroughly perplexed by the argument in her head. Since when had she become a sex crazed lunatic, wanting back in the game? Why did he arouse such madness that always managed to end in naked thoughts?
Guy wasn’t exactly offering anything or giving her the slightest inkling of anything but being grateful for the bed and meals, and maybe some easy friendship. Resigned to sleep, she shelved the inner monologue for a later date. She would revisit the tangled thoughts another time, if ever.
Startled from her near fitful slumber, a loud thud and groan, followed by a shattering sound of glass breaking, had her attention and heart racing. Guy. Quick to her feet, she rushed to his room, shouting his name while she tossed the door open without a knock.
A messy pile of blankets covered his otherwise empty bed. Following a stream of light, she found him behind the half-closed bathroom door. On the floor. Surrounded by broken glass from what were jars of q-tips and cotton balls, now scattered everywhere.
Pale, he was drenched in sweat, and gripping his side. He was also half naked, wearing only his boxer briefs.
“Guy? What happened?” She asked, leaning into the room, hanging from the doorway.
“It…hurts – fell.” Unable to say anymore between the seething groans of pain, he turned a bloody palm to show her the extent of his injuries.
“Oh, my God. Let’s get you out of here, and clean you up.” She grabbed a towel from the nearby bar, and used it to clear as much debris out of the way as possible. A second towel was placed over the once glass laden floor, creating a path to Guy, free from painful shards of glass.
Squatting down, she reached for him. There was no way to avoid it; this was going to hurt no matter how she managed to get him to his feet. His gritted teeth and treacherous groan told the tale of pain he was in. She slowly, but purposefully, moved him to his bed, helping him sit at its edge before going for more towels and supplies.
His eyes were closed as he sat upright, breathing deeply through the pain when she returned. Kneeling in front of him, she needed to get a closer look at his injuries. Despite the serious manner, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of intimacy as she roamed over his body, assessing the damage. The closeness, the need to care for, and – fix. The bloody palm was the result of several superficial cuts and scrapes on his forearms and sides, likely from rolling to the semi-sitting position she found him in. She carefully removed the small shards, still pressed into his skin, and wiped the trickles of blood as she did.
“What happened in there?”
“I don’t know, entirely.” He paused to breathe through pain she instigated while brushing a damp cloth over his deepest wound. “I had a nightmare. I went to put cool water on my face and I must’ve blacked out for a minute? I was standing at the sink. Next thing I know, I was sitting on the floor, looking at you – ribs kicking my ass.” He finished with a labored chuckle to make light of the pain and more so of his embarrassment.
“Your window is open, did you do that?” She asked, trying to figure out what happened.
“Ya…I uh, opened it a crack. I like the sounds at night. It helps me sleep,” he admitted. Problem was, that window was open more than a crack, it was wide open. Looking around, she didn’t notice anything out of place other than the mess in the bathroom.
“What was your nightmare about? Anything you want to talk about?” she carefully asked.
“You know,” Guy looked into her eyes, searching for yet another missing memory, “I don’t remember what it was about. I do remember startling awake and the sweat – I was sweating.” Here he was, still a puzzle piece short of a bigger picture he wanted to remember, it was nagging at him.
“Well, it must’ve been something pretty dramatic to end as it did in there. I’m sorry, Guy. Sorry you have to go through this – all of it.” Morgan stalled, catching the glassy blue gaze burning its way into her heart. She held his stare, their silence speaking volumes as they exchanged more than words could ever convey.
His hand held hers, generating a wave of heat that nearly made her faint. Breaking the spell, she shook her head and pulled her hands away slowly. Morgan felt something with this man – something bigger than them – but she was afraid to explore the powerful draw he had. It sounded good in her head, only minutes before, in the privacy of her own personal thoughts and her bed. But, now that a moment of opportunity may have presented itself, while in front of his
bed, she didn’t know what to think. He did that to her. What did that mean?
“Lay down.” She said, standing to her feet.
Guy’s eyes widened, brows raised, and a small smile began to grow at her request. He moved his hands to a strategic lap
placement when he couldn’t hide that it was more than a smile she was raising.
“I mean, lay down so I can put this on you,” she recounted in a frazzled tone, holding up a small mason like jar of what appeared to be a creamy lotion of sorts.
His smile widened at the implication. Although, he could see her innocence now, through his lust filled thoughts. “You’re going to rub lotion on…me?”
“Yes – I mean no!” Palm to face, Morgan began to blush. Not only had an awkward situation full of innuendo just became more awkward, but also he had no idea how well he was reading her and just how clearly he pegged her secret desires.
“Yes, I’m putting this on you – not…there!” she nodded to his nether region.
A side eye wink later and Guy was slowly turning his body and raising his legs to the bed. All things funny dissipated the second his ribs protested the activity.
Morgan helped him lay down, fluffing his pillow first and finishing by pulling his blankets tightly around his waist to block temptation and offer him privacy
. “This is a salve that has been used by my ancestors since the beginning of time.” She offered as explanation.
“Ancestors?”
“My native roots – my father is Native American, Paiute actually. Although our lineage is much more diverse, some customs and beliefs are still used and very important to us. Like tradition, ya know? This is one of them.” She scooped a bit of the salve with her fingers and began to rub it between her hands before gently laying them on his ribs and abdomen in a circular motion. She moved to his new injuries, doing the same, with an even more gentle touch.
His jaw clenched slightly as his breathing became deeper, more labored, and his body became rigid.
She briefly hesitated and said, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be as gentle as I can. I’m almost done. It should start to feel warm and you’ll notice the pain fade a bit.”
“No, you’re fine – really.” He placed his hand on her arm, slowly sliding it up and down and in a gentle caress, “thank you, Morgie.”
He would never tell her that his reaction to her had nothing to do with her salve washing over him, but that it had everything to do with her close proximity and her warm sensuous touch. Her tiny little tank top that barely held her breasts as she hovered over him and her tiny sleep shorts that displayed the bottom curve of her round firm ass created more warmth
than any mud like paste ever could.
Morgan Jameson was a seductive vixen and she hadn’t a clue that she was, which made her all the more sexy. The only pain he was in now was from the constrictive confines of his briefs and the tightly pulled bedding that was holding him
back so he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the arousal she created. He wasn’t worried about falling back into his nightmare, he was about to have sweet dreams about
Morgan that may require a long cold shower by daybreak.
Sweat rolled down her back as Morgan climbed into her bed, after Guy finally drifted off to sleep. Before leaving the room, she finished cleaning up the mess in the bathroom so he couldn’t hurt himself again. She also took a moment to look outside, through his open window, for anything out of the ordinary. She closed it completely, despite his appreciation for the sounds the night air boasted – something felt off – it was for his safety.
Sleep would certainly elude her for the rest of the night after the past hour or so with Guy. She contemplated resorting to the battery operated relief she kept in her nightstand drawer to release the building ache Guy had left her with, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough.
Seeing him in pain and desperate may have engulfed her emotions, but dragging her hands over his smooth washboard abdomen, strong built chest, and seeing the enticing swell beneath the blankets engulfed her everywhere else. When his piercing blue eye’s raked over her, leaving a course of seductive heat bellowing between them, she felt him inside and out – with that single look. The man was hot.
She didn’t know how much longer she could play humble hostess. They needed to find out where he belonged before she decided it was in her bed.